Recover
by Winter Lord
Summary: Harry was famous for a lot of things. He fought, he bled, he died, he ran. What if, just once, in the graveyard at Little Hangleton, he tried to talk his way out of things? Welcome to Riddle Manor, Harry Potter. Retired Dark Lords with schizophrenia and semi insane Death Eaters... don't worry Harry, you'll be safe here.


**Good morning, world!!**

 **I be back with yet another plot.**

 **The conditions remain the same ; please give me credit for the plot in the summary.**

 **X...X**

 _Scene 1_

 _The graveyard (book 4)_

"Bow to death, Harry."

He felt an incredible pressure on his spine, and was left with no option but to bend or break. A murmur of laughter spread through the assembled Death Eaters.

"I am a magnanimous lord, young Potter." Said Voldemort. "I will give you a chance to speak your final words."

He smirked at Harry's look of confusion. "Come now, _Harry."_ He mocked. "No regrets, last thoughts... You have an eager audience."

"Why are you so crazy?"

" _What?_ " Hissed Voldemort, nearly slipping into parseltongue.

"There was this prophecy, about you returning with the help of your faithful servant. So when Peter here escaped, I started researching the First Blood War... Newspaper reports, historical records, that kind of thing.

You were described as a cunning, charismatic, brilliant general - but not insane. Not insane."

"I am not insane." The Dark Lord growled. "I am Lord Voldemort. You cannot begin to even _comprehend_ the way I think. You are _nothing_ before me!"

Harry raised an eyebrow as the Death Eaters shifted nervously.

"You've kept me alive this long. You summoned your Death Eaters before you killed me. Your entire plan was based on me winning the Tournament and not any of the other three _older, more skilled, properly chosen_ contestants." He tilted his head to the side curiously. "What happened to you, Tom?"

"Don't call me that!" He screamed, and by this point the Death Eaters were staring at Harry with a certain amount of grudging respect.

Harry just shrugged.

"See? Irrational likes and dislikes." He frowned. "The Diary version of you was much saner. He sensibly tried to kill me by releasing a basilisk on me."

Riddle was staring at him with smoldering anger in his eyes. "My... Diary?" He repeated slowly, and Harry's eyes flicked involuntarily to Malfoy.

"Lucius?" The snake - man growled. "Did you, by any chance, let my Diary get lost. The Diary" He continued "that I instructed you to guard with your life?"

He opened his mouth to reply, but Voldemort must have read the guilt in his eyes, for he immediately cursed him.

His cries rang out in the graveyard.

"Enough!" Harry screamed, and even Voldemort broke his curse to look at him. "Sky above, that's your own follower!".

"Who are you to determine what I may or may not do, Harry Potter?" He whispered into the silence of fear.

"If I am to kill you now, who are you to stop me?"

And as his wand rose, Harry _understood_.

Voldemort was the general of a bloody revolution borne almost solely by the absolute belief of his followers in his power. He could not, _at any cost,_ appear weak in front of them.

"Leave!" He cried, spinning around to face the assembled men. They stared back at him uncertainly. He clapped his hands and they all disapparated near - simultaneously.

Voldemort had yet to react out of sheer shock.

Harry turned and found a wand at the base of his neck. "What do you think you are doing, _Potter?"_

He grinned and handed over his wand hilt - first. Voldemort stared at it with considerably less compassion than he would accord a snake, given that he was a parselmouth.

"What happened, Tom?" Harry asked softly. "What did you do that did this to you?"

"Nothing." He snapped out, and Harry inwardly marveled at the fact that they were having a semi - civil conversation. "I am Lord Voldemort and they keep me _immortal_!"

His eyes were fractured in shades of red and brown.

"So that's what you seek - immortality. They means multiple, so you kept safeguards. One of them was probably the Diary." Harry blinked.

"You were _sixteen_ when you first started going crazy?"

Riddle had fallen to knees, his fingers pressed to his temples. "I am _not_ crazy!" He screamed, and when he looked up Harry saw the madness in his eyes.

"Then prove it." Harry said, and he knew the older man was desperate to convince himself.

"You have my wand. Take me with you."

Voldemort hesitantly accepted his arm, but his grip was the clutch of a drowning man to a straw. And then they disappeared.

 _Scene 2_

 _Riddle Manor_

Voldemort looked down as Harry lay sprawled on the floor.

"Owwww."

"Are you happy, Potter? I brought you to my home. Welcome to Riddle Manor."

Harry rolled into good back and glared at him. "You were nice as a kid." He complained. "Hotter, too."

Interestingly, his cheeks stained red as he heard this, and Harry grinned.

"My, my." He purred. "Who would have thought that the Dark Lord Voldemort was gay?"

The man in question swallowed and looked away.

"I'm going to explore."

His gaze followed the seductively swaying hips in front, before he shook his head.

 _No. This... Is wrong. They told me so when I was young. This is wrong._

 _Scene 3_

 _Riddle Manor_

"So basically, you performed a ritual multiple times in order to ensure your immortality, but the ritual also seems to be taking your sanity and your memories with it."

"Yes."

"So here's the plan; you stop expecting to be treated as a Lord. You are the General of a revolution. You will treat your soldiers with respect."

"That sounds... acceptable."

 _Scene 4_

 _Riddle Manor_

Kneel, Potter!"

"Yes... _My Lord."_

A shiver ran up his spine at the tone in which he breathed those words, the look in his green eyes as he peered up at him through his eyelashes.

Several of his dreams sprang to his mind, dreams that he had tried desperately to supress, to forget.

And then he was fighting his own mind as Potter ushered the Death Eaters out, trying to fight his own insanity with memories of his time as a child and more recently, with Harry Potter.

He collapsed, panting, as he broke through, Harry (when did he become _Harry_?) gently carding through his hair.

"They're growing less frequent."

"They're also more difficult to break through."

They sat in silence.

"Tom... How long have you had this problem?"

He opened his eyes to ask what problem, but Harry started stroking his pants.

"Harry..." Did he not know what that was doing to him?

"Let me guess. Your care takers said that being gay was unnatural and _freakish_ " He spat."And if course, touching yourself was a sin."

He averted his eyes. Why was it that on this topic he could never say anything?

He opened his eyes in alarm when he felt his robes being slipped off. Harry was holding... _him_ in his hands.

Stop this, his mind screamed. This is wrong.

Which would have been fine if his mind was in control. Which it was not.

He was kissing it softly along its length, stroking it with gentle motions, and it was all he could do to not moan with pleasure. Then without warning, Harry took him in completely, humming softly and licking with his tongue.

He had never felt as powerless as she felt in that moment, with Harry kneeling between his legs.

It was an exquisite, delicious agony. Harry brought him close, again and again, but never let him quite over, always stopping an instant before satisfaction.

He changed his pace, going faster now, and Riddle felt something wild unfurl in his abdomen as he bucked desperately into his warm, wet mouth.

There were no words to describe his release, nor did he have any part experience to compare it with. Breathing heavily, he stared down at the boy, who licked a dribble from the side of his mouth and smiled innocently up at him.

That set the tone for the rest of the month. Every day, Harry helped him out, sometimes when he was bathing, sometimes late at night in his room.

 _Scene 5_

 _Riddle Manor_

Riddle stormed into the room in a rage, and Harry raised his eyebrows. Before he could do much as react, he was picked up and shoved onto a table. A flick of Riddle's hand vanished his clothes and he could only watch as Riddle removed his own.

He cursed his lack of experience in wandless magic as he only managed to produce a thin film of oil on Riddle's length before he plunged into him. A cry of pain escaped him, but Tom ignored it, plunging into him again and again and it _burned._ But Tom needed this, so he met thrust with thrust until Riddle came.

Then he left without another word.

 _Scene 6_

 _Riddle Manor_

"Harry." He said softly, and the beautiful boy looked up from the bed he was lying on.

"Hello Tom." He said happily.

"I... Would like to... _Apologize_ , for what happened yesterday. It was your first time as well, but I merely took advantage of you and... _Hurt_ you." He swallowed, not meeting the gorgeous green eyes of the boy in front of him. "It will not happen again."

A hand pulled him onto the bed and he found himself lying on top of Harry, his lips nearly brushing his.

"Kiss me, Riddle." He whispered, and Tom's eyes widened.

The boy gave a growl of anger and pulled his lips to his, moaning in satisfaction when he finally responded. They broke apart and Tom stared at _his_ Harry, unsure of what they were now, only to find them both divested of clothing.

Harry's knees were drawn up to his chest.

Hesitantly, he conjured oil onto his fingers until they were dripping, and carefully slid one into Harry, watching his face as another finger joined the first, listening to his hissed warnings to go slower.

He gasped as he slowly pushed himself in, Harry clenching and releasing around him, desperately wanting to move faster. But he had been faster the previous day. And he had hurt Harry.

His release came an instant before Harry's who, by then thoroughly aroused, screamed his name at the top of his lungs.

Tom stared at the sleeping boy in his arms. Tom had raped him, and the next day he had invited him to his bed. He was innocent, and all Tom wanted to do was corrupt him... And Harry let him.

He remembered what Albus had asked... What was Harry to him?

To him, Harry was lovely.


End file.
